Who are you?
by P.Crespi
Summary: Arima Nana falls in love again
1. Who are you?

_"Who are you?"_

Is the first question that rings inside my head when I first see you.

Yes, I am terrible with faces. My memory betrays me, over and over again, choosing to remember with delicate precision attack combos and defense tactics related to kendo, while deciding for itself that all names and faces are but a drop in the ocean of all names and faces that surround me.

Granted, in the grand scheme of people whom I should remember, Shimazu Yoshino's name has been carved with terrifying depth into my heart. I believe this is the reason why I never stopped thinking of her since that ill-fated encounter we had four years ago.

And it wasn't as if onee-sama's names was punched through my heart at once when we first met; rather, these scars are a byproduct of time; a scratch that has never healed, a wound that was reopened a million times over, each time with more and more force, each time closer to the core.

I let it happen.

I let it because that pain had flourished after years of numbness, like a gift that was mine to feel. And that I did. I let it all in, felt all of it, and it hurt me, ripped me to shreds, broke me, terrified me, made me the person I am today.

For the first time I had found myself afraid of losing what was never mine to begin with.

Then, as I was caught in the down spiral of heartbreak, I found myself repeating the same mistakes made by Yumi-sama. I looked at onee-sama with the same longing eyes Yumi-sama would give Sachiko-sama when their friendship started to become something more; when holding hands was simply not enough to satiate the endless desires of hearts deeply connected by something that transcended love –I know this because not only was I able to see it, I felt it, too. I think everyone in the Rose Mansion did–. Still, when it comes to us, Yumi-sama and I are not one in the same. Yumi-sama was only fighting against her own insecurities because Sachiko-sama wasn't sure whom she belonged to quite yet. My battle, on the other hand, had been lost even before it started. All along Hasekura Rei was onee-sama's home. A bystander, all I could do was watch their love for each other grow, transform, and expand into something no one could touch.

"Unfortunately, your table is not ready yet, ma'am."

My heart floods with warmth, not at the half-hearted apology from the restaurant host, but at my witnessing of something I can only describe as a phenomenon.

Sei-sama wraps her arms around you. You, whose name I don't know, whose face I have never seen before.

Like the tease you must be, you don't fall for Sei-sama's scheme, and instead of struggling in her arms, you lean into the hug. Then your lips find home on Sei-sama's cheek.

My heart explodes inside my chest as you catch her off guard. She laughs and you laugh –heartily, like it's been a while since happiness has reached you but now that it has, you hold on to it with all the strength you have.

And it's a lot of strength, isn't it?

So, who are you? Resting your head on Sei-sama's shoulder only so she can plant a kiss in your hair.

Somehow I don't want this endearing second to end. I want you there, in the arms of someone who will not let go.

And I want these butterflies raging in my chest to be within your ribcage, too.

I know; however, that this love that Sei-sama gives you is not the same love she has for the girl sitting next to her: Mizuno Youko-sama wears a smile on her face at your and Sei's antics, like you are simply a couple of children playing.

Much like Sei-sama, Youko-sama also looks at you with endless adoration, like you are incapable of doing harm, of hurting people, of breaking hearts.

But you are! And though I have never seen your face before, I have met people like you. I've seen your kind in action before. You quietly sweep them off their feet with your mysterious voice, laconic speech, with that tinge of yearning which envelopes each word you utter with careful deliberation. You never tell stories properly; always leaving important details behind. You take without giving back because you're scared shitless of getting hurt again.

All of this makes me wonder who is the person who hurt you so badly that shutting down was the only way out of your own hell. And I wonder where you fled to, where you hid while you healed by breaking other's hearts into tiny pieces.

"I figured. Sorry to cause you trouble, but I just found my friends at the bar…" I tell the host with the most awkward of delays, then ask him if I can walk up to meet with them.

_"Who are you?" _

I ask myself again. You sit amongst my friends so comfortably as if you have been there your whole life, so I surely should know you.

I wrack my brain, "I should know you," I say it to myself, like someone who has gone mad.

I should know this smile that reaches your eyes when Yumi-sama approaches you from around the bar, with giddiness reserved for people she thinks the world of. The same way I should know those tears you shed when Shimako-sama sprints pass me, ignoring whatever the host tells her, and doesn't stop running until she is in your arms.

Noriko doesn't seem to see me standing here either; always more worried about her heart beating at the same rhythm as Shimako's –I don't blame her for that.

Forgive me, but you're right in front of me, sharing tears and laughter with the most important people in my life, yet, I'm a mere spectator of this raft of happiness.

And even though I know you hold the power to obliterate whatever is left of my heart, I, still, selfishly wonder if you could spare some of those feelings for me. Even though your heart is broken and your will a bit shaken, I wonder, if even still, you could share that smile with me. I would gladly take your tears, too.

Maybe I'll learn more about myself by learning more about you.

I want you on a Tuesday night when the project you were working on for weeks is still not finished, and you come home hungry, exhausted, mentally drained, in the brink of a breakdown.

I want you, humming your favorite songs as we drive to visit your friends –my friends– on a Saturday night.

I want you with all of your insecurities, and I promise to never stop trying to make you see that they cannot compete with the love I will give you.

_"Who are you?"_ I ask myself one last time as I make my way toward my and your friends.

We finally make eye contact and I attempt to swallow dry the butterflies trying to escape my chest through my mouth. I know you see them, too, and though they dance around me, we both know that their destination, their home, will be inside _your_ chest.

You smile at me, like you know me already, like this split second was enough for you to learn everything you needed to know about my soul.

Though I am terrified, I have no reservations about you keeping all of my secrets.

I hope you see that, too.

"Nana-chan!" Sei-sama calls out to me.

"Youko-sama, Sei-sama," I bow; saying my hellos like someone has shoved a stick up my ass.

Then, I look at you again.

Beautiful would be an underestimation of what you are. Beautiful would only touch the surface of you.

You extend your hand, and I meet you halfway, "I'm Kanina Shizuka," you tell me, pulling me toward you at the same time you lean my way.

The red string of fate wraps around your pinky finger, then secures itself on mine, too.

My soul touches yours. Can you feel it?

Your lips find my cheek, and I wish I were brave enough to turn, to take your mouth in mine.

I would never let go.

_Kanina Shizuka_, the name floods my head, my heart; it seeps into my lungs, drowning me with the complexities carried by those longing eyes.

"Kanina Shizuka," I repeat under my breath as you pull away from me, our hands still tethering us, and I make sure I say your name loud enough so you can hear it. This is your name, stripped away from any honorifics, the same way I want you to be: bare from any walls, or shields, or armor. I will take your heart, and I will tend to it with these calloused hands of mine that until today only knew how to strike, and break, and hurt.

From now on I will live to piece together your brokenness, to mend, to heal, to nurse your heart back to life, back into the light, which is where it has always belonged.

You chuckle as your lips part from my skin, I hear it faintly, but it's enough to know you heard this bold, yet, most timid proclamation of what I am capable of, if you let me in.

With flushed cheeks you look at me, straight at me, like you have found something you lost long ago.

The rules of reciprocity dictate that it's my turn to introduce myself, "Arima Nana, it's a pleasure to meet you," I tell you, almost in a whisper.

It seems as if you don't want to let go of my hand, and I am here holding on to the last millisecond of your touch.

"You're Yoshino-chan's little sister, right? You ask, and as my head spins full of you, I fumble, "Who?"

* * *

A/N: Loosely based on Aquilo's song "Who are you?"


	2. The calm before the storm

A/N: Hello! Hoping everyone is doing okay (as okay as we all can be at times like these).

The Shizuka x Nana pairing might seem weird to some, but it really makes sense in my weird head, hence the second chapter of this thing that was supposed to be a one-shot.

I finally got around to playing Life is Strange 1 and wanted to write something that had a little bit of a multidimensional feel to it without true time skips or parallel universe jumps. Not sure if I achieved it with this, but I'm hoping it's close...

Let me know what you think, and as always, thank you for reading.

* * *

This fells like the calm before the storm; that instant preceding something extraordinary when peace falls upon broken bones like a blanket of solace. I feel it; the stillness, the peacefulness, then you appear like a gust of wind in the dead of winter.

It has never been a secret that music has been a safe haven for me, the one part of my life I have always been able to turn to when everything else felt out of control. Nevertheless, I am taken aback by my heart's ability to remain steadfast even after my world goes quiet. I always thought the lack of sounds would hollow out my heart, but instead, it fills my chest with this warmth I never knew existed.

A feeling of deja-vu washes over me, making me wonder if my soul felt yours even before my eyes saw you.

And don't get me wrong, I am not one to expect benevolent feats from Maria-sama. As a matter of fact, long gone were the days when I clasped my hands together to ask for anything. Today, however, wishing to see you again feels like a prayer I have been repeating for centuries.

Is it crazy to wonder if you've been here before? For some reason I have a feeling that in another life you'd look at me right as these entry doors open.

But you board this train with no hesitance, while I jump inside in a hot mess kind of haste; my feet hitting the metal floors with a loud thud that you seem to ignore completely. Only then the sounds return to my ears, the humming of this electric powered train, the crackling of the metal wheels pressed firmly against the rails. Music also resumes playing through my headphones, but somehow I feel as if a part of me is missing.

You take a seat in front of me while I step to the side, berating myself I can see my reflection on your window. I don't move, thought, holding on tightly to the grab handle while my heart, shackled to my chest, flutters in the empty space between us.

Somehow, even though I know nothing about you, I cannot shake this feeling that much like me, you, too, grew up enveloped in a dark green dress, a sailor collar across your chest, and much like me, you graduated from the thin dark ribbon to the white scarf when you moved from middle to high school.

You think the world of your onee-sama even though deep inside she knows you were the best thing that could have happened to her. You saved her life in more ways than just accepting her rosary. Still, you would have stayed by her side even if she had never asked you to be her petite soeur. The rosary never mattered to you anyway; it's always been her heart that made you not want to leave her side.

Pardon me for assuming, but I cannot think of you as anything but a Lillian maiden, perhaps even a Rose. My heart is sure you led the Yamayurikai with friends you still love, cherish, want nothing but their happiness. And you would fight for them, fight for their right to feel whatever they want to feel for whomever they want to feel, whenever they want to feel it, with nails and teeth. You would give your friends the blood in your veins, the heart in your chest. You would give your life for them because you know they'd do the same for you.

I want you to know, I, too, have incredible friends, and I think you would like them. Do you think I could get along with yours?

You look down at your phone then back up again. With your head against the window you take in the moving colors of Tokyo.

I should be the one taking in the city. I should be the one welcoming back these sky rises, these bright colors, the multitude of people hurriedly crossing these streets I haven't stepped foot on in what seems like an eternity to me. Instead, my eyes are focused on you, the color of your hair bathed in this rising sunlight, the way your fingers hold on to your left knee as if it aches because of the cold weather.

Somehow you found time for a morning run. I can tell because of the redness on your cheeks – and the running shoes neatly arranged on the side pockets of your backpack –. You did it even though it's freezing outside, you did it because you couldn't bear to stay alone with your own thoughts.

I know you kind. I've seen your people in action before. You hide your emotions in the deepest corners of your heart and hope they like the darkness you provide them with. Yet, you love deeply, and you hurt deeply, and it's all the same to you because it reminds you that you're alive –your aching knee helps, too–.

Right now your heart is mending from a long lost love, isn't it? You have this air of melancholy that only people who have experienced the devastating agony of a broken heart can understand. I feel it, too, but while I wanted it gone, you savored each second of that excruciating pain of letting go of something you once thought you couldn't live without. A mending heart is lukewarm, though, but you… you want a blazing fire in the middle of the trenchant winter.

You reach for your backpack, then after a long fight with its zipper you unearth a paperback from it, a book of poems from an author I haven't heard of –French, I believe– I make a mental note of their name even though I know I won't need it because once either you or I disembark this train, it will be it; you will drag this dark cloud surrounding you out the doors like it's just another day in your life, and I will be left with the outline of your face forever engraved in my memory, so I can find you in another life; one which I would sit next to you in this same train ride, but I'd be brave enough to speak to you.

In that lifetime your voice would soothe my soul, your skin would burn indelible marks on me with a simple handshake. And I wouldn't let you go like I will today. I would ask you out, take you to my favorite place in town, tell you stories about myself, then listen attentively to the tails of your childhood. You'd be charming, and I'd be awkwardly nervous but you'd find it surprisingly endearing, your heart ablaze with love for me.

I would love you, too.

I think I love you now.

Has that all happened already, though? Have I broken your heart? Is that the reason you won't look my way?

I walk closer to the doors as my destination approaches, but I can't find the strength to step out when the doors open.

"The train doors are closing, please step back."

So, I do as I am instructed to, and I remain inside this train with you like I would remain along side you until the end of the world. Whether we have done this before or not, if one of us is to leave, may that person be you. May your legs be the ones walking away from me, by your heart's choice. Just know that I will still be here if you ever return.

In a different dimension, I am shackling myself to one of these seats, and you're the only person with the keys to free me. I'll wait for your rescue.

Three more stations pass us by; a sudden migraine hits me with enough force to make me feel sick, but I swear I see Osaka, Kyoto, and Sapporo through the window. Nobody else seems worried about these space inconsistencies.

As my nose starts to bleed and I tend to it with an old handkerchief, I watch you stand up. Instead of walking to the door near me, you choose the one two seats ahead of you. Maybe you know I am here chained to this train and you know better not to look. Maybe you know I am here, bleeding, and you find it safer to keep your distance. How many of these lives have you seen? How many were you happy in?

You don't look back, our eyes never meet, and even still I cannot stop my heart from wanting so terribly to learn the sound of your heartbeat.

The train doors close and I lose you in the sea of people in the station. Then I wait patiently until the next stop.

Even though I don't know where I am I jump off. This is the first time in years I am back in Tokyo with no plans of returning to Italy any time soon, so I allow myself the luxury of not worrying about being lost.

My head still hurts, but I search for the nearest bookstore, and like a frantic maniac, I all but sprint to the counter, asking for the book you were reading. The nice clerk tells me exactly where it is located and I pretend to calmly make my way to the back of the store when all I want is to run to that book.

I swipe my card to make the purchase and deny the offer of a bag from the same guy who helped me earlier, then I brave the cold outside once again, walking aimlessly until I find a café. My request for an espresso is accepted with skepticism by the barista, but after a series of awkward stares, I find respite sitting on a leather couch tucked in a corner of this old parlor. The bitter coffee takes me back to San Marino. _You are there, too,_ _laughing at me as I scavenge the local restaurants for a cup of tea for you. You end up settling for a café au lait while I clumsily apologize for never knowing how hard it would be to find tea in this town._

With headphones back on and a mixture of anticipation and terror I crack this book open for the first time, and how I wish all of these words were yours, and mine at the same time. How I wish these were love letters you wrote to me, that these were your feelings you were handing me. _We're in London now, you hand me a paper cup with a pour over, and sit by me on a bench looking over the pier. "Here," you say to me offering me this very book, and asking me, ever so sweetly, to read these poems because they are everything your heart wants from mine._

I read these old poems cover-to-cover taking to heart words written by someone I didn't know until you came along. Unceremoniously, I order another coffee, just so I can re-read these love confessions one more time, for good measure, then I thank the barista and walk out of the café.

Deep breath, I inhale this city's chaos. It feels good to be back, in a way all the Tokyo demons that once haunted me are now gone, perhaps drowned somewhere in Proveglia, or lost amongst the trees in a labyrinth in Damme, so taking in the cacophony which is this town I call my own is no longer a burden.

When my ears complain of the cold, I hop back in the train and make my way uptown to meet Sei and Youko. Still, I refrain from telling them the story of you, afraid that if I say it out loud I would be cursing our love in some faraway universe. I promise I will do none of that to us. This will forever be our secret.

We clean up and get dressed while drinking at Sei's flat. I must admit I missed Sei and Youko more than I ever dreamed I would, and the warmth of their presence all but melts my heart. Even still, I cannot shake you off my mind. I wonder where you are right now, I wonder if you, too, are amongst the people who love you the most. I hope to Maria-sama you are.

The bathroom mirror is a bit too small for Youko, Sei, and I, but we manage to bend and fold, and squeeze as eyeliner and eye shadows are exchanged amongst us. Suddenly Youko gasps, cupping my face with tenderness only found in a true Onee-sama, "Don't move," she tells me, reaching for a tissue box then plotting down the blood dripping from my nose. _I'm standing outside a bar in New York, my head pounding while I reach for my face, wiping off the blood from my nose with the sleeve of my shirt, then I watch you run out the doors in a bit of a panic, "Thank God you're still here!" you tell me, so I lift my eyes up to meet yours, and you smile through tears before berating me for trying to help, "Half of us are black belts!" you squeal in exasperation, "You didn't have to get involved!"_

A ride share drops Sei, Youko, and I off at a pub in Shibuya, and we pretend not to be intoxicated for the minute which takes us to walk into the restaurant and ask if we could sit at the bar while we wait for our table.

So, we approach the bar while Sei orders us a round of drinks. Youko chuckles at our banter and I cannot help but laugh at Sei. We joke around long enough we have to order a second round, then I see Yumi coming around the corner. She leaps into my arms, my heart melting in the process. I don't even have time to catch my breath before Shimako also crashes onto me; her eyes full of tears, making me cry, too. I'm introduced to Nijou Noriko, and I finally understand Shimako's words of adoration toward this kid.

"Yoshino is picking up Rei," Sachiko says when I ask about the Foetidas.

"They'll be here soon," Yumi assures me in the most adorable of mumbles.

I am home in the arms of the most amazing people in the face of the earth; a garden of the sweetest Roses. Ah! If only you were here to see my heart overflow with love for these girls…

I want so terribly to steal a glance of the front door, just to make sure you're not standing there, watching this happiness unfold as you wait for me to notice you. But in a different life you are waiting for me; in a different life you would walk through those doors looking for your friends –my friends– and you would wrack your brain trying to figure out who I am and why in the world I am amongst the people you love the most. By then you would have already fallen for me –trust me, it would only take a second –. But you're not here, so my eyes spare my heart the search for your face in this crowd.

Sei; however, isn't afraid of looking, "Heh! At least one of the Foetidas is on time… Nana-chan!" she calls the kid out, pushing another drink my way before continuing to roast Yoshino-chan in the most lovingly of ways.

"Leave it to Nana-chan to actually be here on time…" Shimako chuckles.

That name sounds familiar but I still can't place it amongst the sea of younger roses I have yet to meet. So I look down at my drink for a long while, garnering the courage to turn around I couldn't find a minute ago, and when I do, there it is again, the calm before the storm; the second of deafening silence when my heart swells up against my ribcage like it wants out of my chest.

It's you…

It's really you!

I hitch a breath silently as the sounds surrounding us explode in my ears. Sei laughs, Shimako and Youko giggle while Yumi pouts at them. All the while my heart beats faster as you come closer, then our eyes meet for the first time in this lifetime. My God, you are beautiful!

It takes everything in me to remain seated, but as if I have cast a spell on you, your legs walk you right up to me. I cannot help but stare, a smile plastered on my face, and you don't feel compelled to look away either. Butterflies surround you; do you see them, too?

You save your first hello to Youko and Sei, only then you turn my way with a soft "Gokigenyou."

"Kanina Shizuka," I say to you, extending my hand to shake yours. And as you meet me half way, I lean in, pressing my lips to your cheek.

You repeat my name inside my ear, like a whimper from a different touch I already want to grant you. You and I both know that the addition of the –sama to my name is overrated, but you make an effort to keep the honorific away from your lips, and this is just a tiny portion of how you really feel (of how bold you can be when you are in love).

I feel it, too. I feel the weight of all of the lives we have already spent together, the ones we are living now, and the others to come. I feel the heaviness of this love in the urgency of my heartbeat, and the thumping of yours. I understand it all and I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you feel seen, wanted, loved. I will love you, too, in ways your heart will feel through every life you live; that way, next time you step into an old Tokyo station, you'll look at me right before you board the train; so next time you're inside an old train cabin you'll carry the keys to unchain me from its seat. I am still there, waiting for you.

You introduce yourself with politeness I wasn't expecting from Shimazu Yoshino's petite soeur while I am still blushing from the way you spoke my name a second ago.

Right here in this fancy bar, amongst my friends, amongst your friends, I want nothing but to know this version of your heart, so I start from the beginning, "You're Yoshino-chan's petite soeur, right?


End file.
